


The Stages Of Love

by twoheartsx



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angela is a hopeless romantic, Cigarettes, Coffee, Every chapter is inspired by a song, F/F, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, This starts out happy but will become sad, Trans Female Character, Trans!Moira O'Deorain, Which is in the title of the chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 09:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12885378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoheartsx/pseuds/twoheartsx
Summary: Angela always knew there was two stages of love, tripping and falling. She soon learned the hard way that there was third stage no one ever wanted to mention. The part where you hit the ground and shatter.





	The Stages Of Love

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like this. I randomly came up with the idea to write this. Let me know if I forgot to tag anything.

Angela was tired. She could almost feel the dark circles under her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a decent night's worth of sleep, a full eight to ten hours of undisturbed, peaceful sleep. At this point such a thing sounded impossible. Like a meth whispered to people, but no one believed it. Well, more like a secret everyone got to know except her. As if she was an outsider in a crowd of people. Angela shook her head and pushed that thought aside. That sounded really cheesy and poetic. She knew she’d been spending too much time listening to Gabe read through poetry books. The man didn’t seem like one for reading Shakespeare and Allen Ginsberg, but he was full of surprises. He was secretly sappy which Angela found adorable. A memory of the one time on Jack’s birthday he recited perfectly word for word a romantic poem in the middle of the lunch hall, caused Angela to laugh. Gabe claimed at the time it was to embarrass Jack, but Angela heard them later kissing and whispering sweet words in the hallway. She had turned on her heels, smile spread over her lips and walked the other way. 

The moment had been adorable and yet it sparked something in Angela, a thought. What was it like to kiss someone? To have someone fall completely in love with you. So much so they lose their breath at the sight of you. The way it was described in those books Angela pretended she didn’t like. She would never tell anyone about the book she recently read about metaphors and stars. She wouldn’t tell them how she cried at the end of Hazel Graces story. She prefers to keep that part of herself, the hopeless romantic part, hidden. She had much bigger things to think about then sharing how she felt or what she liked. She had things like saving lives and patching up wounds. Love was just another thing, like a full night of sleep, she’d think about when she was alone. 

Angela decides she’s sick of thinking about what she’ll never have and so she stands up and walks out of her office. She wants fresh air and to stretch her legs. So she goes outside, to the front of the base where it’s snowing. The cold grounds her back to reality and it wakes her up. Angela thinks about how pretty the snow looks as it slowly falls to the ground. She also thinks about how she wishes she’d remembered her overcoat. Her lab coat feeling far too thin in below freezing weather. Angela closes her eyes, leaning forward a bit as she wrapped her arms around herself. She shivered again as a gust of wind blew her hair around and crept down the back of her neck. 

“Are you falling asleep standing up?” A deep voice asked from behind her. Angela jumped, opening her eyes and looked back to see Moira standing there. The women was hunched over a bit, never standing straight. A joke went around Overwatch between the younger cadets about how the women wasn’t standing straight because nothing about her was straight. Angela would often hush them and remind the cadets that wasn’t nice and could offend Moira. The women surprised everyone when she laughed at the cadets jokes. That was the first time Angela had seen the women laugh. She never forgot the sound of it. It was deep, sounding like a villain's laugh. It was one of a kind. 

“No,” Angela answered, but she honestly wasn’t sure what she was doing. Moira only smiled, that smile that got under Angela’s skin in more ways than she’d ever admit. “What are you doing out here?” Angela asked. Moira didn’t answer in words, only held up a pack of cigarettes. The gold on the box shone in the pale light from the street lamps. Angela watched as Moira took out a cigarette, a red lighter and lit up the cigarette. Moira pulled the tobacco filled stick from her lips and released a breath of smoke. Angela hated the smell of cigarettes, always had. The doctor part of her also argued that they were bad for you. 

“I’m sure you know how bad of a habit that is.” Angela remarked, watching as Moira took drags from her cigarette. They were slow, precise drags. She made smoking a cigarette seem like an art. As meticulous as she would be doing an experiment. Angela found it odd, mostly that she thought that way. 

“I have a lot of bad habits, doctor.” Moira informed, a small smirk on her lips. She had the unfixable habit of being insufferable. Her witty words and sharp tongue only adding to her insufferable attitude. She took another drag from her cigarette, blew the puff of smoke at Angela and, added. “Not all of us are perfect little beings like you.” 

“I am far from perfect,” Angela said, glaring at the taller women. She coughed when Moira blew smoke in her face. She couldn’t believe sometimes how much Moira got under her skin. Her actions always just outside of Angela’s comfort zone. Late night drinks, cigarettes between her teeth. That hint of desire burning behind her mismatched eyes. She was like nothing Angela had ever known. Like a storm just waiting to rain down over Angela’s head and soak her in all she was. That thought sounded wrong and made heat rise to Angela’s cheeks. Heat she was sure she didn’t have given all the cold around her. 

“I’m sure many would disagree.” Moira took another drag from her nearly burnt out cigarette. She tossed it into the snow, letting the cold, wetness put it out for her. Angela knew they would. Everyone seeing her as an angel. Secretly she loved the words, sought that confirmation. She wanted to be told she was an angel, good and pure. Her god complex unyielding. Moira turned on her heels and began walking back inside. “Don’t linger out here too long. You’ll catch a cold.” 

Angela didn’t want to listen to Moira, feeling too much like a child being scolded by a teacher. Angela finally caved after twenty seconds and followed the women inside. She told herself she was going in because of the frigid weather, not because Moira told her to. She’d never admit the women had that much power over her. Even if they were just colleagues. 

~

Angela found herself in the company of Moira more than she’d like to. They had to work together on several things, finding their shared knowledge better than working solo on most things. They got work done faster when they worked together and so, often they found themselves in the same office. At first neither were too thrilled about it, but after almost two months of constant working side by side. Both of them, at least Angela, found that Moira’s company wasn’t so bad. She learned the way the older women like her coffee. She learned that when her hair wasn’t gelled back, it was soft and fluffy. She learned that after having to barge into her room when the women wasn’t in the lab while a huge paper was due. 

Angela was surprised she had noticed these things. She was even more surprised when she found she really liked all those little things. All the little things no one, maybe not even Moira, noticed. She looked up from the paper she was currently writing. Her thoughts in a jumble as she stared at Moira. The woman seemed to notice that Angela was staring as she looked up at her.

“What's wrong doctor?” She asked, arching a brow. A smirk that was clearly meant to get under her skin was spread over Moira’s lips. Angela just wanted to wipe that smirk off of Moira’s face. “Why are you staring? See something you like?” 

“No,” Angela lied. “I was just wondering if you'd get a cup of coffee with me.” There is a silence between them and Angela almost regrets her words. Almost regrets asking, but then Moira responds. 

“Sure, one cup of coffee won’t hurt anyone.” One coffee. That’s all it would be, just one cup of coffee.


End file.
